Varia Tradition
by strangertrack
Summary: The Varia meet for lunch every week without fail.


Second and third scenes flipped and slightly revised because I forgot that Mammon was there during the cradle incident in the anime. I fail at fandom (but Varia = win).

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**Varia Tradition**

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The Varia had a tradition as long as Squalo's hair. They did their own thing, took on their own separate missions (because backups were for sissies or for the rare S-rank mission), and often went the whole week without seeing each other. But come Sunday afternoon, the elite core members were expected to gather for a traditional Italian feast.

Or in Xanxus's own loving words, "Trash company for a trash meal."

Xanxus would slouch in his throne with a look of sullen apathy, Squalo to his right and Levi to his left. Lussuria's seat would be empty as the self-proclaimed mother of their dysfunctional family flitted back and forth in a frilly apron and little else, serving them steak and pasta and wine. No underlings were allowed to intrude on this special private time.

Gola Mosca stood like a mechanical butler behind Xanxus during his brief time with the Varia, napkin draped over steel arm as it awaited its next order.

Bel and Mammon were relegated to the kiddy table set off to the side, a plastic table with matching chairs that wobbled precariously under Bel's weight.

When Bel had first joined the Varia, Xanxus had tolerated his decidedly unprincelike table manners during the first meal. He had even gone so far as to look faintly amused when eight-year-old Bel's fascination with the silverware had ended with a fork in Levi's chest and a knife in Squalo's hand (luckily, it had been the fake one).

But Bel crossed the line during the second group meal when, following a childish argument, he had flung his drink in Squalo's sputtering face. That was completely unacceptable. Throwing drinks at the shark was Xanxus's exclusive privilege and he wasn't about to share, genius prince or not.

So Xanxus had banished the offending minion from the table, and Lussuria had bought the sparkly plastic Disney princesses table so that their prince could still enjoy the gatherings from a prudent distance instead of begging for scraps at their heels like the punished pup that he was.

Little Bel alternated between sulking and giggling to himself as he got drunk on milk, plastic utensils scraping endlessly against fine china as he dismantled his meal into unrecognizable scraps. The Varia at the regular table steadfastly ignored his sing-song conversations with the empty air, Levi eagerly awaiting any opportunity to please and gain the boss's approval, Squalo loudly bragging to win Xanxus's attention, and Lussuria laying on the flattery to show the others up.

And Xanxus would glower with one part smug satisfaction and nine parts annoyance, until he would abruptly scrape back his throne and declare the meal over.

On good days, the plates were cleared and the gelato devoured before Xanxus dismissed the group. On bad days, Xanxus walked out while Lussuria was in the middle of doling out the salad, the food still untouched.

Either way, there was an implicit guarantee, a promise to show up. The Varia was a family and Xanxus made time for his family, undeserving trash they may be. It was the mafia way.

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Bel took an immediate disliking to Mammon, who was littler, newer, and just as special. Too much special made the special ordinary.

"You're no baby. You're an infuriating midget," he balked, stretching his thin frame across the scratched pink tabletop possessively. "Go sit somewhere else. This is the prince's VIP table and you're not invited to the ball."

Mammon stared, unimpressed at the childish display, mouth fixed into a disapproving line. The two were at stalemate until the frog on his head made a little ribbit.

Bel sat up straight, interest in protecting his table gone. "Shishishi, I like your frog!" he declared with boyish glee, greedy fingers reaching for the amphibian.

Mammon allowed his new teammate to pick Phantasma up. Bel cooed as he brought the frog up toward his face, peering intently through his fringe. Then, without warning, he hurled the frog into the wall with all his might.

"Muu!"

Alien green blood and tiny organs splattered with terrific impact and Bel's shoulders drooped in disappointment. "It didn't turn into a prince!" he noted with dismay.

"Did you really think that would happen?" Mammon replied crossly, going over to scoop up the runny mess. He hummed and the bits of goo glowed and coalesced into its original shape in his cupped palms.

Bel clapped his hands and danced in delight as the regenerated frog squeezed its way into its partner's coat.

"That's amazing! Let me kill it again!" Bel demanded.

"You have to pay me each time you do."

"So I shall, you have the prince's word!" And Bel spent the next five minutes gruesomely proving that small animal torture is indeed one of the indicators of a serial killer while Mammon hovered nearby with the real Phantasma safely nestled in illusion.

By the time Lussuria emerged from the kitchen with the fetticini, Mammon had made himself comfortable in the second plastic chair, and Bel's creepy laughter and one-sided conversations seemed less straightjacket-unhinged and more badass when directed at a person rather than thin air. He issued detailed, vaguely homoerotic death threats at an unfazed Mammon that thankfully were not carried out.

We _think_.

xxxxx

The Varia carried on with tradition even when the boss was down, encased in ice. The meals were filled with quiet tension around the painfully empty throne, and even Lussuria remained remarkably subdued.

Bel outgrew his table but stubbornly refused to sit with the others, even when Mammon finally abandoned him to sit atop the main table, muttering about "solidarity" and "get through Squalo before he gets to me."

"That's Boss's seat," Bel confided in a stage whisper, voice loaded with awe, lanky legs bent at awkward angles. There was a collective twitch at the mention of boss, but no other reaction. The others were too withdrawn in their own brooding thoughts to worry about how fellow teammates were coping.

Bel cocked a head listening to an invisible companion, his tiara bobbing jauntily atop the crown of gold hair.

"Hm... yes... a magnificent seat, truly fit for royalty! But if I tried to take it, they would all kill me, gouge out my eyes and feed me my brains, gut me like fish and string me up by my own bloody entrails~~" he crooned. Bel grinned, faltered, then shook his head morosely. "No no, I wouldn't dream of it. The prince is a prince but the boss is still king. Ushishishishishi~"

Squalo took a break from acting like a dumped girl and leaned forward. "We need to get Xanxus back before Bel becomes even more fucked up."

The others couldn't agree more. "He has serious daddy issues."

_And we miss Boss._

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When Squalo came down for Sunday lunch (which was a remarkable feat for someone in a wheelchair; the stairs were _steep_ and the damn Varia stronghold wasn't handicap-friendly but Xanxus would throw a regular bitch fit if anyone was missing without the excuse of being dead and Squalo kind of had been for a while but now he was not so his presence was required), he was pissed to see Bel lounging in Squalo's usual seat.

He wheeled himself furiously toward the table and yelled at the top of his lungs, "VOOOOIIIII!"

Bel didn't jump in surprise and fall out of the seat and crack his empty head open and die. He didn't even twitch.

"VOOOOOOOIIIII!" Squalo tried again.

Bel turned and gave Squalo a disinterested look.

"Get out of my chair, brat," Squalo bit out when it became obvious that his 'VOI's just weren't cutting it today. Maybe his vocal cords were damaged in the fight. He could usually drag out the 'VOI's to run to the second line.

"It's my seat now," Bel informed smugly, latching onto the arms of the chair as if Squalo was in any condition to try to forcibly remove him.

"No, that's MY seat. I've ALWAYS sat there. You go sit at your stupid baby table." Squalo jerked his head toward said baby table, regretting how the action strained bruised muscles.

"Boss wanted it this way," Mammon called out from Lussuria's usual seat. The top of his head barely peeked over the tabletop. Further investigation revealed that the Arcobaleno was sitting on a pile of books. "He was displeased with Lussuria and your performances during the battles."

"You lost, too, you stupid baby," Squalo squawked with indignation.

"But I helped Bel collect the rings during the sky battle instead of sitting around with the enemy like a useless gossip, so Boss forgave me."

"Shishishi. Boss doesn't want to look at your sorry face. It makes him want to puke all over you."

"Voi! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Xanxus lost, too!"

Squalo was unceremoniously dumped to the ground by an enraged Xanxus who had just walked in. "Useless trash who can't even succeed at dying should be quiet," Xanxus snapped, booting Squalo toward the humiliatingly pink table and taking his own seat. "Now sit down so we can enjoy our goddamn lunch."

"Fucking asshole," Squalo glared as he crawled back to his wheelchair and hauled himself up.

Bel waggled his fingers at him with a mocking grin. "Enjoy lunch at the loser's table~"

Squalo flipped him off before rolling himself to the loser's, er, kiddy table and unceremoniously running into one of the pink chairs and knocking it aside. Fucking ridiculous. Elevated on the wheelchair, the tabletop didn't even reach his knees.

"Don't worry, Squalo-chan~ You still get to sit with me~" Lussuria blew him a kiss, looking enormously pleased at being scrunched into Mammon's glittery pink chair. "Since you're worse off than me, I'll even feed you~"

Abso-fucking-NO.

But Sunday lunch together was a long-held tradition, the only one the Varia kept. So Squalo held his tongue and decided to kill Xanxus later. If Bel didn't do it first. Squalo hoped that the psychotic prince stabbed the smug bastard right in his smug face during the meal. That'll serve Xanxus right for booting away a loyal friend like Squalo in favor of that unsettling weirdo.

Xanxus watched the disgruntled swordsman valiantly fight off Lussuria's advances through the corner of his eye and smirked behind his glass. Ah~ even trash had its uses, their suffering really lifted his mood.

It'll be a good day, today. Can't let Squalo miss out on dessert.

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**The End.**

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December 16, 2008


End file.
